


Obsidian

by altered_eagle



Series: City Goblins [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Arkham is a bad bad place, Beach Sex, Bruce Wayne is a mess, Bruce Wayne's bedtime stories, Bruce and J's totally awesome gaycation, Bruce helping the Joker dye his hair, Bruce wrapping the Joker up in his cape, Creepy Romance, Cuddle Porn, Filth, Fluff, Frenemies, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Daniel's double mellowed Tennessee whiskey, Joker whump, M/M, Medical, Mental Health Issues, Nolanverse Joker is a dirty dirty boy, Quality Time, The Joker has a teddy bear named Bruce, Vacations, as in he's hygenically challenged, betcha saw that one coming, but they're still a fucking distaster, how Alfred found out about batjokes, like physical filth, mutual respect, sleep porn, that shit is canon, they have it, two fucked up guys cuddling and talking and being fucked up together that's all this is, yyyyeah part 3 is probs the fluffiest gayest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:38:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first ever batjokes tumblr prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sharing a drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guise i played a tumblr prompt game for the first time ever and boy was it fun. It helped me write some okay batjokes stuff so i figured what the hell i'll share it with y'all. In all of these Bruce and J's relationship maintains the same dynamics as the rest of the series.
> 
> All of these will be more or less inspired by the album [Obsidian by Baths](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJdXswiku4uMki7HwfLrPnZvYCxWpDYz3) because it's pretty much the only music i've been listening to lately ~~i'm not obsessive or anything nope not me.~~

Fighting the Joker is like fighting a mirror is like fighting a dozen tidal waves is like fighting a private terrible war with no rules  
and no boundaries, even so

it almost frightens Wayne how at home he feels

going to war with this monster in the middle of the City cracking his knuckles against this monster’s jaw while the sun sets around them  
because they’ve known each other long enough now to learn one another, and compete with one another, and today just like any other day every spray of blood spilt

brings Batman a little closer to putting the clown away again  
every blow Batman lands on that white painted face pushes some of the Anger from his heart, but.

In the here and now, this week has been a hard one for Bruce Wayne and Batman alike it’s been  
the kind of week that has drained him of strength has left him  
simultaneously wound up and exhausted and he can’t relax, in the here and now

Batman finds himself in another heated battle with the god damned Joker and Batman’s near the end of his endurance but  
the problem always lies in the Joker’s boundless energy it just  
pours and  
pours and  
pours from him from his mind and his guns and his knives and his fists  
endlessly until Batman finally strikes him just so

and finally pulls the plug

and puts the Joker on his back so hard that he doesn’t get up that he just lies there on the hot dry asphalt with his purple trench coat puddled all around him as his diaphragm spasms as he’s caught  
gasping for air until Batman gets an arm under his chest, helps him roll over onto his hands and knees but they don’t look one another in the eye

not once, Batman

watches

as the Joker gets his breath back as his respiratory rate evens out to something reasonable, there are  
sirens blotting into the distance but they’re at least five minutes away so Batman turns his attention to his nemesis sitting sprawled out panting on the pavement.

The Joker looks up at Batman exhausted and overheated and spent and for a split second something in his gaze stirs Wayne’s heart, sends a chill down his spine.

Wayne scans the area removes his mask and kneels down next to his enemy.

 _Do you need an ambulance,_ he asks but the Joker’s already shaking his head, rolling his shoulders, running his fingers slowly along his torso up and down his torn purple suit searching for wounds.

_i’ve got some road rash but you didn’t even break any ribs. Were you going easy on me or something._

_Not particularly._

_You look like garbage,_ the Joker remarks with his voice a grain too soft and his dark eyes a little too vacant with the Hate in them dialed down and it makes Wayne shiver again, seeing that _Are you feeling okay, Bats?_

 _No, not today_ , Wayne admits. _i feel like i could sleep for a week._ He glances over his shoulder then back at the Joker who hasn’t moved, hasn’t even tried to get away. _Do you want to go to that place in the narrows,_ Wayne asks at last. _My car’s just around the corner._

 _Sure,_ the Joker says quietly. _Sure._

By the time they reach the grey basement motel room in the narrows there are black spots drifting across Wayne’s vision and he can barely keep his feet to get down the stairs.

He doesn’t protest when the Joker sits him down on the sofa to help him out of his suit.

He doesn’t protest when the Joker helps him stretch out and tucks a pillow behind his head. It’s far too easy to lie back and accept his enemy’s assistance but Wayne knows he can always agonize over it later, right now  
all he can feel is the cool wet cloth over the back of his neck the press of the Joker’s hand on his chest as they both lie sprawled over every inch of the couch in the air conditioning and the dark.

The slow crack of plastic on plastic fills the room and faint droplets of moisture puff into the air and then the Joker  
is passing Wayne a water bottle, supporting the bottom of it while he drinks. He drinks for a long time.  
As soon as he’s done the Joker tips the bottle back and finishes the rest in seconds.

A dull glint of silver catches the dim light. Wayne has to squint to focus on the source.

The Joker’s bringing a metal flask from his hip to his mouth. Wayne puts his hand out in request but the Joker keeps ahold of the flask frowning at him.

_Are you sure. You don’t look up for pounding whiskey._

_Just a little,_ Wayne begs. _i’ve hydrated plenty and i’ve had a tough week. And i could use something to help me sleep for a while, honestly._ The corners of the Joker’s red lips quirk up wrinkling his scars.

 _Well in that case, this’ll work for you just fine. Give me a second._ The cushion springs back as the Joker vacates the sofa, and then the only sounds in the small room are

a hiss

a clink

a rush of fluid hitting glass then  
Wayne opens his eyes to find the Joker sitting next to him again drinking an amber liquid from a highball glass. After a second the clown hands the glass over.

 _It's Gentleman Jack. Can you take it straight or do you need a chaser._ Wayne smiles up at his nemesis and tips the glass up swallows it all before the first ice cube touches his lip. It burns all the way down to his stomach. _Nice work,_ the Joker says quietly. _Do you want another._

_Not right now. _Wayne sets the glass on the carpet.__

_Okay._ The Joker shifts around until they’re both comfortable and his hand finds its way into the crook of Wayne’s arm anchoring them together. 

_Will you be gone when i wake up,_ Wayne asks. He feels the Joker shrug against him. 

_Maybe. i don’t know._

_But_

_Remember last time we were here,_ the Joker interrupts, _and i told you to shut up and go to sleep? Just do that for me again._ Wayne smiles 

in spite of himself, 

and closes his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honorable mention to synthwave who is partially to blame for all of this too thanks buddy


	2. Someone's greatest fear, an absent look or touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for (slightly) graphic descriptions of illness and squicky stuff

“Oh, I love you  
And I pray you found your rays  
It was my parting lie and I wrapped it in all the bows  
Lodged in the rectal wall of agony, hell is our only home”  
[—No Past Lives, Baths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IRZ6Lse55Z4)

* * *

_i won’t hurt him and i won’t interrogate him. i just need to ask him some questions._

_He’s only been conscious for six hours, he won’t be of much use to you_

_Turn the cameras in his room off, i need to speak with him alone. Now._

Batman tries in vain to steady the shake in his hand as he opens the door to the Joker’s room. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat.

The Joker is lying half on his side, propped up in the middle of the hospital bed.  
He’s hooked up to an electrocardiogram and oxygen, with nasal cannulas up his nostrils.

His makeup has been carelessly half-wiped away but there’s still red and black and white streaked all over his ashen skin, all over the pillows and around the collar of his hospital gown. There’s an i v catheter in his right hand a brace covering most of his right leg and he’s loosely tethered to the bed by a cuff around his opposite ankle, although it hardly seems necessary considering how much morphine he’s probably on.

 _Hey Bats,_ the Joker rasps. His voice is scratchy and there’s an opiate drawl drawing out his words _Listen i was on the other side of town while that little assassination attempt on Gordon was happening and as you can see i’m not up for chatting right now, so…_

Wayne locks the door.

Pulls out his wire cutters snips the cords on the security cameras and removes his cowl.

 _Oh,_ the clown breathes. _So it’s like that._ Wayne sheds his gloves drops them on the edge of the mattress and drags a chair up next to the head of the bed, he can’t

speak his throat is too tight can’t

meet the Joker’s eyes

 _You don’t really know why you came here,_ the Joker says gently. _Do you._ Wayne shakes his head, props his elbows on his knees buries his face in his hands there are

cool fingers carding slowly through his hair and suddenly he’s closer to breaking down than he wants to admit

 _You don’t always have to understand why you feel what you feel,_ the Joker tells him. _It’s okay to not know._ Wayne catches the Joker’s hand, holds it against his cheek. For a moment he just sits, in silence, clinging to him. Then Wayne says

 _i’m sorry,_ and the Joker’s dark eyes narrow.

 _Don’t,_ he says sharply as he pulls his hand back. _You can’t start thinking that way Bruce Wayne. You were doing your job, just like i was doing mine._

_i ruptured your fucking spleen._

_And dislocated my knee, and bruised my kidneys,_ the Joker adds, grinning at him. _But i didn’t lose my spleen which is nice, and i’m on intravenous antibiotics to prevent any infection. i’ll be all right._

 _You always say that,_ Wayne snaps. _But the truth is that you don’t even care_ and then there is

Anger bubbling up to Wayne’s surfaces and he’s struggling to keep it in check (this is neither the time nor the place) but it's pushing adrenaline into his blood it's raising his heart rate

ever so slightly

 _i’m always all right in the end,_ the Joker points out, but for a moment his gaze turns distant and he’s looking off over Wayne’s shoulder. _So far, anyway._

 _Exactly,_ Wayne says. _Christ, this time i just…_ his voice cracks. Now the Joker is watching him, pinning him down with black hole eyes. _i came so close,_ he explains at last. _The first time i put on this suit i promised myself_ (and my dearly departed) _that as long as i fought for justice in this city or anywhere else i would never kill, because i don’t think it’s right to place a value on human life._ Wayne stares down at the scars covering his knuckles.

_And because if i ever took a life out of anger it would be too easy to do it again, and today you made me so angry and i came so. Close but you would just love that wouldn’t you if you were the one that i broke my promise over if you were the one to make me a killer_

_Bruce,_ the Joker interrupts and Wayne stops,

snaps out of it,

didn’t realize how loud his voice had grown or how fast he’d been talking

 _We have about half an hour before somebody comes by to check on me,_ the clown drawls. _So if you need to hug me or have a breakdown or whatever you should probably get on with it._

Wayne smiles sadly as the rage begins to drain away.

 _May i—_ he points to the other side of the bed.

 _i might not make the best little spoon right now,_ the Joker warns. _i’ve been nauseated since i woke up._

 _Do you want the bed to yourself?_ His nemesis shrugs one shoulder.

 _Just thought i’d give you fair warning._ Wayne frowns.

 _Have you thrown up?_ he asks and the Joker nods.

_Just after i regained consciousness, and then after i drank water. i’m back on ice for now._

_Haven’t they given you an antiemetic?_ Wayne growls.

 _Settle down mama bear,_ the Joker sighs as he gestures vaguely at the i v bag hanging above him. _i’ve already maxed out my morphine and zofran, they’ll give me more when they can._

 _You have the highest drug tolerance of anybody i’ve ever met,_ Wayne remarks. The Joker laughs, winces.

_Does that surprise you._

_No._

* * *

Lying down while he's wearing the suit is a little uncomfortable but it’s nothing Wayne can’t deal with. He and the Joker arrange themselves so that they’re pressed gently together with the Joker’s back up against Wayne’s chest and Wayne’s hand resting on the Joker’s hip while

the long-ignored part of his brain that’s still rational is screaming that he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need to curl up with the fucking Joker just to reassure himself that this monster is still breathing, that he’ll be all right.

But the rational part of his brain can’t change the plain fact that Wayne does

need this

that he couldn’t stay away from his enemy  
that now the crushing anxiety that’s been plaguing him all day has receded, he  
can feel the Joker alive and warm in his arms, can smell blood and sweat and gunpowder.

After a few minutes Wayne feels the Joker tense against him.

 _Would you_ —the clown points at a grey plastic basin on the bedside table and Wayne is

immediately on high alert, he carefully (carefully!) crawls over the other man to grab the basin which he deposits into the Joker’s arms. Then he picks up the remote to raise the head of the bed a little more, sits up to give the Joker some space but stays close enough that he can still hold the Joker’s hair out of the way, and keep a hand on his back.

The Joker spits a few times before he finally vomits, or tries to. Nothing’s coming up, not even bile, although the Joker strains harder and harder until he’s coughing until he’s struggling to breathe without retching until he has to pull out the nasal cannula,

because his nose has begun to bleed, until Wayne’s heart

is aching and he’s on the verge of tears again. He passes the Joker a tissue to stem the trickle of blood, keeps moving his palm slowly across the Joker’s shoulders until the heaving slacks off, and the bleeding stops, and the Joker settles down. He’s panting and sweating

and all Wayne sees in his eyes is exhaustion and pain. Wayne slides off the mattress wets a paper towel at the sink and wipes the blood from the Joker’s nose and chin.

 _If you get sick again i’m getting dressed and calling a nurse,_ he tells his nemesis.

 _Don’t bother._ The Joker digs a chip of ice out of the cup drops it into his mouth and tips his head back. _i’m due for another push of zofran in a little while anyway._

 _You’ll need it soon if you can’t stop vomiting, or you risk popping stitches._ Wayne hands the Joker another tissue and replaces the oxygen prongs in his nostrils.

 _But it would be nice if you could stay a while longer,_ the Joker says softly. He looks so tired. Wayne leans over to kiss his forehead, helps him lie down on his side again.

They lie quietly until Wayne can’t hold out any longer and finally admits:

 _i’m not sure if i can do this anymore._ He’s glad that the Joker is facing away from him, that the Joker can’t see 

_i can,_ the Joker replies. _But the ball’s in your court on this one. Whatever you decide, that’s what we’ll do._

 _God,_ Wayne laughs mirthlessly. _This would be a lot easier if you weren’t being so damned nice about it._

He can almost feel the Joker grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up gross and sad i'm sorry
> 
> The quote "Whatever you decide, that's what we'll do" is from Marge from The Simpsons


	3. Inter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiko commented: _"i hope one day they can just spend some time together without one or both of them almost dying or fighting each oher haha not for ever tho where would be the fun in that."_

[Inter: Baths](https://youtu.be/b_6fgotqVHM)

They arrive very early in the morning, when the sky is still dark grey. They’re both still tired and in pain, so they don’t have the energy to do much. 

They take hydrocodone. 

They take a shower. 

They take a nap. 

They both wake up half-hard as the sun is casting soft pink light across the room onto the floor and the bed and the walls, so instead of closing the shades Wayne blinks opiate dreams away and reaches for the Joker. 

During sex they have to be careful of the injuries they’ve accrued from a fight two days before (the Joker came away with a split lip and bruises from beanbag rounds, and Wayne with three sprained fingers and a strained shoulder) but the clown is constantly mindful of Wayne’s pain level. He’s gentler than usual. Wayne has to avoid kissing the clown’s cut lip and instead kisses his scars, his neck, his chest, whatever parts of him Wayne can reach. 

Wayne would never call himself a romantic in theory, but now in this room with this view with pale pink light reflecting off the water and shining over them both he can't deny that 

fucking his nemesis slowly as the sun comes up over the ocean reaches right to the very core of his being strikes sparks there in a way like nothing else can despite the drug haze that shrouds his senses, and if Wayne murmurs _thank you_ into the Joker’s stomach as he leaves a trail of butterfly kisses down the Joker’s chest then he's certainly not being romantic; 

he's just grateful. 

 

When they finally get out of bed Wayne cooks the Joker crepes with fruit and grins at the surprise in his enemy’s expression when he takes a bite. The clown never seems able to wrap his head around the idea that Wayne taught himself to cook, 

and that he’s damned good at it. 

They carry towels and food and an umbrella down the trail from Wayne’s house to the white beach, where the breeze is blowing just enough to keep insects away. For a minute Wayne walks slightly behind the Joker just to watch his faded green curls ruffle up in the wind. He’s so beautiful when he’s like this, Wayne thinks, and for a split second a bolt of sorrow hits him hard but it fades as quickly as it came. 

The water all around is too rough to swim in most of the time, but Wayne’s house is located in a secluded little cove that the waves can’t reach and the paparazzi will be hard-pressed to ever find. 

Wayne initially suggested South America, but the Joker had only agreed to a weekend so they had to fly somewhere close. 

_Are you…asking me out on a date?_ the clown had asked last week, as Wayne was driving him back to Arkham. 

_No, i’m asking you to go somewhere with me,_ Wayne had replied. _If you say yes i’ll turn the car around right now._

_Don’t get me wrong i mean i’d love to hang out with you but i’m not sure if i can clear my schedule right now,_ Wayne’s enemy said as he scrolled through his phone. _This time around i’m gonna have to break out of Arkham in record time so i can pick up a crew and meet with my associate from out of town, and he leaves again next week so…_

Wayne hadn’t asked if the Joker was hesitant because he was afraid of having too good a time if he was afraid that afterwards he might not want to return to Gotham at all. Instead Wayne said _i own an island in the bahamas,_ and the Joker cancelled all his meetings and schemes and plots of senseless destruction without another word on the subject. Wayne pulled the tumbler into a u-turn without stopping to consider his priorities, or the idea that he might not want to return to Gotham either. 

* * *

At ten they take Wayne’s boat out to where the reef begins and manage to swim a little without straining their injuries. Despite having taken three hydrocodone tens the Joker is eager to explore, so they put on masks and dive into the atlantic ocean. 

The Joker quickly proves to be a proficient swimmer, and Wayne doesn’t at all mind watching him move through the water in nothing but the dark purple speedo shorts that Wayne bought for him. At one point he dives down nearly ten feet to inspect a hoard of hermit crabs, and bubbles rise up from the Joker’s laughter as the small animals crawl across his hands. It’s strange, seeing him so at ease. Wayne wonders if he’ll ever stop seeing different sides of this man. He wonders just how many facets exist beneath his surfaces. 

They swim with a school of angel fish. 

They follow a turtle around the reef. 

They watch four dolphins catch fish in the distance. 

They eat lunch and take inner tubes to simply drift, content in the eye of their hurricane, surrounded by warm water and sea stars instead of smog and grime and city noise.

After a while the Joker throws his inner tube up to the boat and lies back in the ocean makes a star with his arms and legs and just floats. His hair fans out around his head and shines as it catches the sun. Wayne does the same and puts his head back lets the ocean fill his ears so that he can’t hear anything and when he looks straight up all he can see is

blue and blue and blue. 

He rolls over to see a barracuda flickering ten feet beneath and for a moment it seems to glare up at Wayne baring shining teeth at him, but then with a flick of its tail the big fish swims away as quickly as it came. 

A steady throbbing through Wayne’s fingers accompanies the numb realization that his injured hand is protesting, that he’s been swimming too long. He flexes his wrist, bites his lip. The Joker paddles up to Wayne and rolls his eyes when he sees Wayne flinching. 

_Of course you've overdone it. Time to go back,_ the clown says. _We need to take our meds, and ice your hand before the swelling gets too bad._

They dock the boat, and when they reach the shore the Joker sits Wayne down on his beach towel pours pours clean water over both of their hands and gently removes the little wet splints on three of Wayne’s fingers. The Joker lines the splints up on the towel to dry while he takes a small cold pack from the cooler and applies it to Wayne’s fingers. Then he wraps Wayne’s hand in an ace bandage with a dozen quick twists secures the ends and kisses Wayne’s palm. Wayne leans forward to kiss his cheek. 

Late afternoon finds them still nearly motionless, lounging under the umbrella. From time to time Wayne can’t help but marvel at how slow and languid his enemy's movements can become, how he can sit still for so long without any particular plan on his mind. For the most part he has to be drugged to some extent, just to slow his mind down enough. The opiates help to take his edges off.

At some point the Joker’s on the verge of dozing off when he suddenly bolts awake, looking around as if he has no idea where he is. Wayne recognizes what it is (a symptom of post-traumatic stress) and covers the clown’s hand with his own, squeezes, tries to get him to focus: 

_Joker look at me,_ he says softly. The clown shudders visibly tenses his muscles and looks wildly around them, like he’s expecting to be attacked. _You’re safe,_ Wayne tells him firmly. _You’re with me. There’s nobody else here, and nobody knows where we are. It’s okay to rest._ The Joker opens his mouth to protest but then Wayne guides the clown’s head into the crook of his neck and begins to stroke his salt-curled hair, and after a minute or two he begins to settle. 

After five minutes he’s relaxed against Wayne’s side so Wayne helps him lie back down on his towel, runs gentle fingers across his back until he drops off again.

Sometimes Wayne would give anything to know what it’s like inside the Joker’s head. 

Usually he’s terrified by the idea, and he’d never want to know. 

 

By seven o’clock they’re sprawled out on their towels baking in the late sun. The Joker’s smoking a joint and reading a book and they’re both high and lazy from painkillers, in no mood to move at all. Wayne’s just beginning to feel the next dose of opiate coming on, which he supposes is why he looks at the man next to him, and out of nowhere begins to laugh.

_What?_ The Joker asks. _What is it._

_i just…_ Wayne shakes his head. _i can’t believe i did this. i can’t believe i’m doing this._

_It was your idea,_ the Joker points out. 

_Exactly._ Wayne laughs again, and the Joker raises his eyebrows. His expressions look so different when the red and black and white are mostly absent from his face, when the Hate in his eyes thins out. It never dissipates completely though; Wayne catches flashes of it from time to time. 

Wayne’s also noticed that no matter where they go or what they do the Joker usually never wipes the face paint away completely. He suspects it’s because in Arkham his nemesis is not allowed to wear makeup—that when the Joker is on the outside he needs to feel the paint on his skin. He needs the smell of it as a constant reminder that he’s free. The Joker values his freedom most of all.

Now the remains of white paint are glaring against the Joker’s skin because he’s tan from being in the sun all day, and little freckles are showing through across his face. Wayne has a sudden impulse to kiss the bridge of his nose, where most of the freckles are clustered. 

_Bruce?_ The Joker’s voice startles Wayne a bit, and he realizes that he’s been staring. _How many hydros did you fucking take,_ the clown demands as he passes Wayne a bottle of water. _You're pretty out of it. Like Amy Winehouse out of it._ Wayne shrugs.

_i am not, i only took a few._

_Uh huh._ The Joker puts the joint out in the sand. _Acetaminophen's hard on your liver, you know. You have to be careful._

_i am being careful,_ Wayne retorts, trying (and failing) not to sound defensive. _But my fingers were killing me and shoulder’s still sore from thursday._

_Yeah that one looked like it really hurt,_ the Joker remarks. _When you smashed into the windshield your shoulder’s what hit first_. Then his expression changes, and he bats his eyelashes. _i’ll massage it for you later,_ he purrs. Wayne scoots over to kiss him softly avoiding the split. 

_i’d like that._

* * *

They move to the dock and the Joker rubs the knots out from under Wayne’s scapula, and that turns into the Joker giving Wayne a blow job, and that turns into 

Wayne slowly fingering the Joker for nearly half an hour ( _it’s been a while,_ the Joker had told him that morning, so Wayne wants him to be comfortable) and when the clown is hot and bothered and ready Wayne slicks up with saliva and fucks him until the sun sets and the tide rolls in against the dock, until all Wayne can hear

is the rush of waves and the Joker’s voice and the thrum of his own heartbeat in his ears until all Wayne can smell 

is the ocean and blood and sweat and gunpowder until

every pathway in his brain is flooded with oxytocin and it’s everything, Wayne’s existence has been reduced to fucking his enemy senseless in paradise and he lets that happen, just for tonight.

 

The Joker’s always been the best sex Wayne’s ever had. 

 

An hour later while they’re lying tangled together on the dock Wayne admits: _sometimes when i go out of town like this i wonder what it would be like to never go back._

_What, to Gotham?_ The Joker props himself up on his elbows to light a cigarette. _i'll tell you what it would be like: you’d get bored. You’d feel unfulfilled, and probably guilty. And god knows you don’t need more guilt heaped on top of those sexy busted-ass shoulders_. He pauses to blow a ball of smoke from his mouth and suck it up through one nostril. _Eventually you’d probably go back to putting on the costume and punching faces which is fine, because Gotham needs the Batman as much as you do. It’s good for you._

_i know,_ Wayne sighs, flipping onto his back to look up at the gathering stars. _i’ve grown to appreciate it, most of the time. i just get so tired._

_You work really hard,_ the Joker agrees. _And it’s okay to feel overwhelmed once in a while. But when you do feel like that you can always call me. Or put the mask on and fight me, whatever you need._

i’m afraid of how much i need you sometimes, Wayne wants to say but thinks better of it. Instead he murmurs _it’s getting late_ into the Joker’s hair. _Let’s go in._ The Joker huffs. 

_The sun’s only been down for a couple of hours and it’s still warm. i like it here._ Wayne smiles as he gets up on his knees. 

_You have no idea what time it is do you_ , he asks. The clown frowns in concentration for a second before he slowly shakes his head. _It’s nearly midnight,_ Wayne informs him, _and i’m tired as hell. If you want to go snorkeling far out tomorrow we need to get some rest._ Wayne stands up still reeling slightly from the hydrocodone and offers the Joker his hand. _We’ll come back in the morning, i promise. We can leave the umbrella here._ The Joker allows himself to be pulled to his feet but immediately reaches for the band of Wayne’s swim trunks.

_Really quick can we just—_

_In my bed,_ Wayne says as he begins to collect their things. _Or my bathtub, wherever you’d like. But i’ve already got enough sand wedged in my ass from beach sex today, and as you’re undoubtedly aware too much beach sex sand can lead to oozing rashes on your genitals. I’d like to avoid those if at all possible._

 _Mmm, are you trying to get me horny again so soon?_ The Joker leans into Wayne and presses a kiss to the skin over his jugular. 

_You’re disgusting._

_And you love it._

Wayne doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead he bends down to pick up a perfectly round stone and tosses it at the edge of the ocean watches the stone skip six times before it sinks. 

_You’re good at that,_ the Joker remarks. He looks over his shoulder, his gaze fixing on their footprint trail along the shoreline. _Can i bury you in the sand tomorrow._

_No._

_Can we go snorkeling._

_Probably._ Wayne slips an arm around the other man’s waist, but the Joker suddenly steps in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

_Wait, i want to do something._

He takes the cooler from Wayne and sets it aside, kneels down and pulls Wayne down with him. Takes Wayne’s uninjured hand presses it into the damp sand and pulls it back, leaving a print. He presses his own hand down next to it, so that the prints fan away from each other with the thumbs just barely touching. Then he places both index fingers together above the hand prints and draws a heart encircling them. The Joker sits back on his heels reaches into the bag he brought along and pulls out his phone. 

_There,_ he says with satisfaction as he snaps a picture. Wayne helps him up and they stand quietly for a moment, smiling like fools. 

 

A few minutes later as they’re walking arm in arm down the shoreline Wayne glances back at the sand heart. The waves are already washing it away already pulling it into the rising tide. 

_That doesn’t matter,_ the Joker says as he follows Wayne’s gaze. _i took a picture. And i’ll draw you another heart tomorrow if you'd like._ Wayne sniffs back a stray tear and doesn’t say i’ll always remember it even without a picture doesn’t say i remember every day i’ve spent with you and the times i’ve spent with you like this have been the best times of my life, no Wayne just 

tugs his enemy closer and keeps walking, 

his own heart suddenly light as air.


	4. Worsening: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DracoMaleficium](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/profile) prompted _"how about a little thing with Bruce reacting to the news that Joker keeps a teddy-bear at Arkham that he called "Bruce"?"_
> 
> This could be considered a precursor to [The Lengths.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7521325)

[Worsening: Baths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez8eKTzQXEI)

_What's he holding?_ Batman points to the screen that’s currently displaying a view of the Joker’s cell. _What is that?_

 _That’s Bruce,_ the doctor replies. Batman’s heart jumps.

_What?_

_The teddy bear that he’s got,_ the doctor explains. _He calls it Bruce._

Batman is suddenly glad that his suit hides his skin because goosebumps have risen all over his body, and god he knew he and the Joker were getting in too deep

but this is something else entirely.

 _His psychiatrist gave it to him when he started regression therapy,_ the doctor continues. _He had another session today. The process itself can cause patients stress, but having something to hold often helps them cope. After the Joker’s first session he took the bear with him and kept it on the shelf above his bed._ Batman forces his expression to stay neutral and focuses on the television screen.

The clown is currently chained around his wrists and ankles and tethered to the wall, but he’s crumpled on the concrete floor of his cell and curled into himself. The bear’s head is just visible from where it’s crushed in his arms. Batman can tell that the toy is medium sized and dark brown, but nothing beyond that.

 _Is this behavior normal for him?_ Batman demands as he jabs a finger at the screen again, but he already knows what the answer will likely be.

He’s never seen his enemy behave like this.

He’s seen him manic, depressive, calm and collected, totally irate and everything in between, but never like this. He looks so small.

He looks defeated.

 _Lately he’s been holding that bear more than he used to,_ the doctor says with a shrug. She seems alarmingly disinterested. _He talks to it, sometimes. He’ll sleep with it if he’s had a bad day._

Batman wants to say it seems like every day he spends in here is a bad day, but he doesn’t.

 _Unfortunately i have to get going,_ the doctor tells him. _i have an appointment in five minutes._

 _i’m going to stay and watch the rest of the tape,_ Batman replies burying the shake in his voice. _i might pick up on a clue about his involvement in last night’s bombing; it’s something he could have easily orchestrated from inside Arkham._

 _Suit yourself,_ the doctor says. _Just let a guard know when you’re leaving._ With that she closes the door behind her and strides down the hall, leaving Wayne with twenty-three hours of every move the Joker’s made since midnight.

And if Wayne’s totally honest with himself, he’s definitely not looking for clues about the bombing—he’s looking for more footage with that damned bear.

He finds a surprising amount:

The Joker perched on a chair during his therapy session clutching it to his chest.

The Joker in his cell pacing as much as the chains will allow with it clenched in his fist.

The Joker sitting in the corner with his back against the wall holding onto it like his life depends on it. 

In all of the videos Wayne can see dozens of pinprick bruises from needles running up and down the Joker’s arms.

By the time Wayne finishes the footage his heart is hammering. His throat is tight and he’s halfway to tears without exactly knowing why.

 _What have they been doing to you?_ he whispers, and stands up.

He leaves the room and heads straight for the Joker’s cell under the guise of an interrogation, but actually interrogating the clown is the farthest thing from Wayne’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so my Joker might seem ooc here but i think even folks as tough as him would lose their shit if they went through what the Joker's going through at Arkham...
> 
> Btdubs for those of you that don't know, the Joker having a teddy bear named Bruce to comfort him through regression therapy is 100% canon :D


	5. Worsening: Part II

A guard opens the door to the Joker’s cell, and Batman steps in. The heavy door swings shut behind him. A single sconce high up on the wall is the only light source, casting shadows on the solitary figure curled into a ball on the floor.

 _You…_ the Joker lifts his head. _Get out._

_Joker_

_i said get OUT,_ the Joker barks,

and lunges at him.

The bear slips out of the clown’s hands and hits the concrete. Wayne steps back, and the Joker falls to the floor two feet in front of him

straining against the chains. His eyes are on fire.

 _Stop it._ Wayne pulls the only chair across the room and uses it to block the door. _Stop it,_ he repeats as he darts around the room cutting the wires on all the cameras. _i’m not going to interrogate you, i just came to talk. i want to help._

 _Bullshit,_ the clown spits, _you’re going to slap me around ask me stupid questions and pry into my fucking business just like you always do, and i’m gonna spit blood in your self-righteous face. Let’s get it over with._ He picks up the teddy bear and starts to laugh.

He doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

Wayne checks the cameras one more time before he kneels down a small distance away from the other man and removes his cowl. It’s been a while since the Joker’s seen Wayne without his mask and since then their interactions have not been pleasant.

Once Wayne’s mask is off the Joker quits laughing and doesn’t try to attack him again, but he doesn’t move closer either. He just stares, and holds onto the teddy bear.

He always looks so young without his face paint. Now that Wayne’s seeing him up close Wayne notices pronounced grey shadows under his eyes. His dark blonde hair is stringy and damp, his forearms are covered in little pinpricks and bruises. 

He looks like he’s lost some weight too.

 _So this is Bruce?_ Wayne asks as he cautiously reaches out to stroke the top of the bear’s head. His enemy nods and finally smiles but there’s a haunted air about him that Wayne doesn’t like one bit.

 _At first i thought he was a piss-poor substitute, but…turns out he’s okay company. At least squeezing him stops me from grinding my fucking teeth._ The clown glances at the toy with fondness in his eyes and sets it in his lap.

 _What happened here?_ Wayne asks, gesturing to a large purple patch on the bear’s chest.

 _i don’t…_ the Joker runs one finger across it. _i don’t remember. But they let me glue the patch on myself; obviously we’re not allowed to use sewing needles._

_You seemed pretty attached to him today,_ Wayne remarks. _One of the doctors mentioned that it’s not always like this._ His enemy frowns, looks down at the bear again.

 _He’s the only one besides you who listens._

_What about your doctor,_ Wayne asks. _What about your psychiatrist. Don’t they listen to you?_

_No_ , the Joker says fiercely. _No no they’re a joke all of them, they just talk at me like a bunch of fucking puppets always saying the same things—_ he breaks off into laughter again that sounds far too hysterical for Wayne’s liking and begins to rock back and forth slightly in an obvious attempt to self-comfort.

Wayne’s seen him in all kinds of states but the way he’s acting now is definitely new,

and it’s disturbing.

Wayne removes his gauntlets before he slowly reaches out rests a hand on the Joker’s back and begins to rub up and down the curve of his spine. Physical contact usually helps soothe him when he’s on edge.

 

When the clown has calmed down a little Wayne asks: _What’s wrong?_ in the gentlest tone he can manage without sounding patronizing. _Did your doctor switch up your meds? Did somebody here hurt you?_

_It’s too much,_ the Joker replies flatly.

 _What do you mean?_ Wayne presses but the Joker just looks away off over at a point on the wall.

 _It’s too much,_ he repeats pulling the stuffed animal into his chest. _i try to deal with it like i always have but i just can’t anymore, i can’t i can’t i_

_Easy,_ Wayne murmurs as he scoots closer. _i’ll stay with you for a while. i’ll stay._ The Joker nods and doesn’t flinch away when Wayne wraps an arm around his shoulders or

when Wayne wraps Batman’s cape around them both. Instead he rests his head on Wayne’s shoulder, lets out a shuddering breath.

They sit together for a long time, with the teddy bear crushed in between them.

 

 _i can get you out of here,_ Wayne says eventually. _i can get you committed somewhere else but you’ll have to tell me what’s been going on._ The Joker sits up straight, shaking his head.

 _That’s not how this works. That’s not how we work, we have to keep things status quo._

_i know,_ Wayne replies. _i know. But you can’t blame me for worrying about you._

_Yes i can._

_You’re terrible,_ Wayne sighs, and his enemy’s scarred lips quirk up at the edges. It’s a shade closer to a real smile so Wayne takes that as a victory and takes his nemesis into his arms holds him nearly as tightly

as the Joker’s been holding Bruce.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is called "Nolanverse Joker Has A One Track Mind And Is Terrible At Self Care In General So Sometimes Bruce Does It For Him".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll just stick this crappy self-indulgent h/c here even though it wasn't inspired by Baths. It was however inspired by [this thing that happened on tumblr dot com](https://tmblr.co/ZqE3Vj2FDFUx-) so there's that.

Once in a while, they both get so aroused after a fight that Wayne rents a room at the closest hotel (always in the basement, always near a side-entrance) and they meet there.

Tonight Wayne’s not even finished getting out of his suit and the clown’s clambering in through the open window, he’s

launching himself at Wayne stripping Batman’s remaining armor away as quickly as he can while his scarred mouth latches onto the spot behind Wayne’s ear that always gets to him, but despite the fact that Wayne’s cock is already beginning to throb he sniffs the air around them and shudders.

The Joker smells awful.

He’s usually in a constant state of dishevelment but right now Wayne can smell old sweat and garbage filth on him can feel

the grime smearing across his skin as the Joker sucks on his earlobe and it’s too much, Wayne

ducks out from under the barrage of kisses and his nemesis whines softly at the loss of contact.

 _Wait,_ Wayne says breathlessly, holding the other man at arm’s length.

 _What?_ The Joker snaps as Wayne looks him over.

His makeup has run from his cheeks clean down his neck. His hair is wet and plastered to his skull, and there’s a small twig stuck in one of his curls. His skin is smudged with mud and gunpowder, as are his clothes. His sleeves are stained dark red. He’s breathing hard and trembling slightly, which is normal for him when he’s manic and aroused but it’s clear that he’s pretty wound up besides.

 _Listen i really do want to fuck you tonight,_ Wayne says at last. _But you need to take a shower first._ The Joker growls and reaches for him again but Wayne steps farther away.

 _Bruce come on, you want this too i know you do_

_i’m serious,_ Wayne interrupts. _It won’t take long._ The clown rolls his eyes.

 _God you’re being such a buzzkill right now…_

_Maybe,_ Wayne concedes. _But i’ve had sex with you plenty when you were kind of filthy and even a few times when you were pretty filthy, but right now you are absolutely filthy and you’re not touching me until you take a damn shower. The Joker frowns._

 _We don’t have time_. He starts to shake the tangled hair out of his eyes and freezes halfway, frowning again. His hand strays up to press against the side of his neck, and Wayne notices it now—something

about him is Off. His normally fluid movements are stiff and halting and he’s been favoring his right arm.

 _We can make time, i’ll pay for another night,_ Wayne assures him. _And if your shoulder’s bothering you i’ll wash your hair for you okay_. The Joker’s dark eyes lock into his.

 _How did you…_ he touches the same spot on his neck and flinches. He seems a little puzzled at his own reaction.

 _You’re moving like your shoulder hurts_ , Wayne tells him. _You’re moving like the pain’s gone up into your neck. It’s not surprising, considering your lifestyle_. He reaches out to gently press his hand against the point where the Joker’s neck and shoulder meet. His fingertips immediately find a knot the size of a golf ball. He trails his fingers down a few inches

and finds another, then another.

 _Jesus Joker, how were you planning on having sex like this?_

_i didn’t notice it had gotten so bad, i—_ the clown’s words cut off in a gasp as Wayne digs under the edge of his scapula.

_Of course you didn’t,_ Wayne sighs. _Get into the shower, and i’ll wash your hair for you, and afterwards you can take a hot bath to loosen up your muscles. You must be in a fair amount of pain._ The Joker shrugs. 

_i guess…_

_You guess_. Wayne smiles, shakes his head. He rests one hand in the middle of the Joker’s back and steers him towards the bathroom. The Joker huffs but goes along without resisting.

* * *

Once Wayne has the Joker seated on the edge of the tub he begins to unbutton the clown’s filthy shirt. The fabric almost crunches under Wayne’s fingers.

 _Joker when was the last time you changed your clothes?_ The clown shrugs, flinches. _Try not to move your shoulder,_ Wayne instructs. _Once you’re out of the bath i’ll give you a muscle relaxer and try to rub the knots out, and then you should stretch a little. You’ll feel a lot better._

 _Sure_ , the Joker concedes as Wayne carefully extracts his arms from his shirtsleeves. He pulls the Joker’s pants down next and reaches for the band of his underwear, but the Joker’s already tugging at the hem of Wayne’s undershirt insistently.

 _You too._ Wayne smiles.

 _Not yet. You need to focus on relaxing for a while, and then we’ll see about me getting naked._ The Joker laughs hollowly.

_i don’t really relax. Unless you count when i’m drugged out of my mind at Arkham._

_Can you try?_ Wayne asks gently. _i’ll help._ The Joker’s eyes flick down to the floor, then back up at him. Wayne would never mention it aloud but it’s almost endearing,

to see his enemy looking uncertain like this.

He runs his fingers through the Joker’s greasy curls for a minute before he makes an offer that he knows won’t be refused:

 _i’ll go down on you later._ For the first time that night the clown’s eyes light up.

 _Sold,_ he says, and turns on the tap.


	7. Chapter 7

_You didn’t have to take me home with you,_ the Joker remarked as Bruce opened the passenger side door. _i mean i appreciate this but you could’ve just taken me to the hospital and spared yourself the trouble._

 _i’m aware_ , Bruce replied, and lifted him.

 _Master Bruce there’s a wheelchair just down the hall,_ Alfred said.

 _i’m aware,_ Bruce repeated,

and kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt but was originally posted on tumble dot com. i hope i didn't disappoint y'all with the length but this was an exercise in stuffing a lot of big things into one little thing


	8. Ironworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gay Bat and the Gay Clown return to Bruce Wayne's Gay Island

[Ironworks: Baths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R156qapYnrQ)

Later, while they’re spread out under the stars the Joker smokes a cigarette and asks Wayne how many people he’s fucked on this dock.

_Nobody. At least, nobody for a long time._

_i really don’t care if you fuck other people Bruce._

_What, you wouldn’t be jealous?_

_Maybe a little._ The Joker crushes his cigarette out and rolls over, looking up at the stars _But it’s not my place to tell you how to live your life, and i’ve never been one to advocate anything that white christian society has brainwashed into people. Unless monogamy between us is something that you want, in that case—_

_No,_ Wayne interrupts. The Joker raises one eyebrow. _It’s not like that either,_ Wayne says quickly. _It’s not like i go looking for people, but…i’ve tried, a few times. It wasn’t the same. i just kept thinking about you and i_

_Shhh._ The Joker presses two fingers over Wayne’s mouth. _We’ll just keep things status quo, okay._

_Okay. Do you._

_What, fuck other people? Nah, not anymore. i mean i usually have a lot of opportunities but i wouldn’t enjoy sex with anybody else. It would feel hollow._

_Are you getting sentimental, Joker._

_Me?_ the Joker asks with a tone of mock-surprise. _Never. It’s just that you’re the best lay i’ve ever had…probably because i actually like you, never mind that you’re so damned gorgeous. Fucking somebody other than you would be like doing a fat line of sketchy cocaine that’s cut with meth after i’ve been snorting pure colombian yay for a month straight._

_That’s the most romantic thing anybody’s ever said to me._

_Really._

_i guess._ Wayne smirks and slips his hands down to grip the Joker’s ass. It’s all muscle.

_Sometimes i dream about you…when we’re apart,_ the Joker breathes into the hollow of Wayne’s throat sending waves of pinpricks dancing across his skin _Sometimes i dream that you’re fucking me, in an alley or a motel or_ —he pauses to kiss Wayne’s neck— _or in your bed with the silk sheets and then i wake up so. Hard, i just_ …the clown dips his head lower, runs his wet velvet tongue along Wayne’s collarbone and Wayne’s cock twitches insistently against his thigh

_Come here,_ Wayne murmurs as he reaches up to run a hand through the Joker’s salt-crusted hair. _Come here, let me_

_i’m getting there, Princess,_ the Joker purrs, and Wayne realizes a second too late that he’s shown a shade too dark of frustration that the Joker has seen all the

Need

in his eyes because now the Joker’s tongue has begun to trace

every scar on Wayne’s chest, his enemy is

moving lower licking slowly down his chest

lazily,

and then Wayne’s gasping as the Joker’s mouth latches gently onto his left nipple and Wayne just

has to reach down to touch himself just

has to wrap his fingers around his cock to relieve a sliver of pressure now that he’s become  
impossibly hard what with all of the blood in his body pooled into a single place

into a rhythm that throbs in time with the  
in the lantern in his soul in time with the single thought in his mind repeats (yes) as the Joker’s hand slides up Wayne’s ribs, Wayne

bites his lip as the clown traps his opposite nipple between thumb and forefinger and rolls it as the clown

grinds against Wayne’s leg like a dog in heat and every time the Joker slides up his thigh the heads of their cocks just barely touch Wayne  
can feel how hard the other man is against him, can feel  
how much the other man wants to fuck him and now

the Joker’s pace has become agonizingly slow, and now Wayne

recognizes it: Reverence. Worship. The Joker wants this to last.


	9. The Blood-Free Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pinglederry gave me a prompt forever ago that i forgot about where Bruce helps Nolanverse J dye his hair...

_Alfred is going to kill you._

_Why._ The Joker straightened up from where he was bent over the white sink, massaging dye into his hair. _What’d i do?_

_This is his bathroom, Joker, and he just cleaned in here._

_Oh._ The Joker set the bottle back down on the sink edge and glanced around him. His lip twitched. _i forgot._

 _Alfred uses this bathroom because it’s the only room in my house that hasn’t been covered in dirt blood vomit and your dirty clown hair_ , Wayne said casually, looking over the splatters of acid green and makeup covering the sink and the taps and the marble floor. _That’s why this place is known as the Blood-Free Zone._

 _Oops._ The Joker looked in the mirror, then back at Wayne. _He’s gonna be mad._

 _Yes,_ Wayne agreed, fighting the urge to grin. _Yes he is._

 _When is he getting home?_ Wayne’s enemy asked and Wayne did smile this time, he couldn’t help it.

_i’d say in about half an hour._

_Christ_. Wayne’s enemy picked up the bottle again and gestured at a box of gloves on the floor. _Help me get the back part done then, so we can get this cleaned up._

 _We?_ Wayne laughed,

and pulled on the gloves,

and dug his hands into the Joker’s hair.


	10. The Jorkors EYEBALLS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mel prompted: "So what about Bruce high off his ass (because I love how you do high bruce) rambling about J's eyes? I've got a thing for pretty eyes and Ledger had pretty eyes"
> 
> **i kept the original title from my google doc because lmao

His real smile is in his eyes.

Even sometimes when the Joker’s red pouted mouth and scars are twisted into a grimace you can see it there, that eye-smile, flickering around

like little sparks under the surfaces. You see another kind of flicker there now as the fire reflects upon them, as the two of you sprawl on the sofa in the dark in the late afternoon. The fireplace is the only lightsource in the room, and it’s bouncing into the Joker’s pupils. It looks at home there.

He’s just been on the job so his makeup is fresh, and his eyeballs are stark white against the black paint around them, stark again against his ebony irises. Right now his pupils

are blown wide like yours, expanded from opiates

and you could never tell him how beautiful they look like this because he’s injured and

that’s sick,

to think that he looks beautiful when he’s in pain.

_Bruce?_

_Hmm?_

_You’re staring,_ the Joker rasps from where he’s lying with his head in your lap.

You blink.

 _How are you feeling_ , you ask, avoiding his observation. The Joker’s shoulders shrug and he flinches and so do you, by proxy.

 _Not so hot._ You frown at that; any small admission usually means he’s likely in a lot of pain.

 _Stay here tonight,_ you tell him as you stroke his hair. It’s softer than you could have ever imagined before, at least when it’s clean. _Stay here with me and get some rest, and Alfred can make you something to eat._ The Joker rolls his eyes.

_Don’t make him do that, Bruce_

_He wants to,_ you interrupt. _He asked. You saved my life, Joker._ The Joker snorts and the action vibrates against your leg.

_What was i gonna do, not?_

_Do you want some pancakes. I know you like Alfred’s pancakes._

_Sure,_ the Joker murmurs, turning his face back into your stomach. _That…that sounds nice._


	11. How Alfred Found Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khenq prompted: "So I'm wondering. In your stories, how did Alfred find out about Bruce and Joker? I imagine it must have been an uncomfortable conversation for all (most) parties involved."

_Alfred…_ Bruce looks up at you, then at the man in his arms. Your heart is pounding up in your throat. There’s blood splattered all over the bathroom—on the sink, on the toilet, on the purple trench coat puddled in the middle of the floor. Bruce himself is covered in it as well, although you cannot see any visible wounds besides two identical spots of red pooling around his knees.

_i…_ Bruce clears his throat, and shifts the other man’s head up onto his shoulder. _Joker, this is Alfred, my butler. Alfred…_ Bruce glances up at you but can’t meet your eyes _i guess you already know who this is_. The madman in Bruce’s arms chuckles weakly, and he does meet your gaze, sending chills down all of your limbs. Even as he’s crumpled and bleeding on the floor, the clown’s eyes are on fire.

_Nice to meet you,_ he drawls. _And let me be the first to apologize on both our behalves, i know this wasn’t exactly how you planned on spending your sunday night…_ his voice catches and he begins to cough. Bruce helps him lean over, wraps one arm around his chest and begins to rub his back. Whispers something into his ear.

You stand frozen on the spot, your hand still on the door handle. You don’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if y'all would be interested in this having a second part...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted: "bruce's throat hurts from doing the batman voice for too long and joker makes fun of him"

_What do you get when you mix birth control and LSD?…A trip without the kids!_ The clown’s laughter rang ragged in Wayne’s ears. _Aw come on Bats, usually after my third joke you at least tell me to shut the hell up_ , the Joker said, poking Wayne in the shoulder. _You feeling extra gloomy tonight?_

 _Just…_ Wayne swallowed hard and flinched as his throat burned. 

_What was that?_ The Joker turned his head towards Wayne. _Did you eat nails for breakfast or something?_

 _No_. Wayne swallowed again, flinched again. His voice sounded hoarse even in his own ears. 

_Are you getting sick?_ The chains around the Joker’s wrists clinked as he pressed the backs of his fingers against Wayne’s cheek. Wayne shivered at the touch. _You don’t feel warm_ , the Joker remarked, sliding his hands down Wayne’s arm. _What’s wrong with your voice?_

 _i’m fine_ , Wayne said through gritted teeth.

 _Then why do you sound like you deep-throated half the cocks in Gotham? The_ Joker persisted. He fell silent for a moment, which in Wayne’s experience was never a good thing. _Oh…_ the Joker breathed. _Oh. It’s from your Batman Voice, isn’t it._ Wayne didn’t respond. _That’s it!_ The Joker leaned back against his seat, smirking triumphant. _First you were doing it at the cops, and then at Gordon when he tried to off me, and **then** at me…and now you’ve gone and hurt yourself. Oh god, you’ve out-Batmaned yourself. That’s too good._ The Joker dissolved into laughter, rocking back and forth slightly. _Guess you won’t be imitating Pissed Off Robocop for a while…_

 _Shut up,_ Wayne said at last, immediately regretting it when his throat throbbed.

 _Oh Bats, i was just playing,_ the Joker replied, wiping his eyes. Wayne glanced over, and suddenly the clown’s expression 

had gone all soft and roses. 

_Listen_ , the Joker said quietly _, why don’t you turn this rig around, and we can go back to your place for tonight. You seem pretty tired._

_Joker…_

_Come on Bruce._ The Joker batted his eyelashes. _We’ll get you out of that sweaty kevlar and into a nice hot shower, and after that we can watch a movie._ Wayne sighed.

_If it’s a John Waters movie you’re thinking of then it’s back to Arkham for you._

_Jesus Bruce Wayne, you really do sound awful. You get to pick the movie okay._

Wayne sighed again, 

and turned the car around.

 

An hour later Wayne found himself tucked into bed, with a fire lit in the fireplace. The bedroom door opened and the Joker sauntered in with a mug in his hand. 

_What’s this?_ Wayne asked as the Joker climbed onto the bed beside him.

 _Green tea with lemon and honey,_ the Joker replied, handing him the mug. _It should get you feeling better in no time._ Wayne nodded his thanks, took a sip. It was hot but not too hot, sweet

but not too sweet.

 _Tell Alfred thanks for the tea_ , Wayne said, and the Joker smiled a little smile that seemed almost shy.

 _He didn’t make it,_ he said. Wayne grinned,

and took the Joker's hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this...khenq prompted: _"Bruce/Batman giving Joker a piggy back ride, both of them are high on painkillers."_

You’ve never heard it before in your life:

Bruce’s deep laughter, echoing off the hallways in the manor,

in the middle of the day.

Out of instinct you follow the unfamiliar sound, through the manor’s mazes, until sudden adrenaline spikes through your chest and your arms as you come across

the man you think of as a son carrying **that man** (that clown that criminal that monster of Gotham) on his back down the hall, headed for the bathroom, both of them giggling like fools. Suddenly it happens in slow motion before your eyes, 

some trite moment in a Hallmark romance film:

the Joker sways and Bruce’s left knee gives out and they end up tumbling over into a heap on the floor, breathing hard and gasping laughter into their lungs.

It’s almost endearing, you think, before you catch yourself. 

The two of them disentangle and look at you in tandem, the Joker with a neutral expression in his black eyes and Bruce with one of a naughty boy who’s been caught. The both of them are covered in bandages. Both sets of pupils are dilated, blown wide. 

_Oxycontin, Master Bruce?_ You ask. Bruce nods.

_Tens,_ the clown supplies.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't a prompt but a rambling turned fic so i figured i'd post it

_Lie down, Joker.  
_

_i’m not tired._

_Yes you are,_ Wayne says as gently as he can. _Have you seen the shadows under your eyes recently._

_No._

_Finish your water and lie down. You’ll feel much better after you get some sleep._

_i can’t. i don’t want to. i can’t.  
_

_Do you want a xanax or something?_ The Joker shakes his head so hard that it ruffles his hair up.

 _Okay_. Wayne sits on the bed guides the Joker down to the mattress and begins to rub his back. _Would you like to hear a story_? he asks. The Joker shrugs, so Wayne takes a deep breath and begins to speak:

_Once upon a time there was a billionaire playboy named Bruce Wayne. He lived in a big city called Gotham. By night Bruce Wayne dressed up as a giant armored bat and attempted to bring justice to the people of Gotham by way of violence, but he was often impeded by Arkham inmates and chemically engineered supersoldiers andneurotic sociopathic punks dressed up like clowns. But by day, Bruce Wayne was a business executive. Today he went to three meetings. The first meeting was about putting more funding into solar energy research, the second meeting was about whether or not to purchase a new robotics company, and the third meeting was about microfinancing for the poor. Then Wayne and several of his white collar fake friends went to lunch at the Portale.  
_

_At the restaurant Wayne was flirted with by no less than three beautiful women and one beautiful man, but Wayne turned them all down because he already had somebody special in his life. Of course Wayne knew that his special friend probably wouldn’t mind if he went and got some strange, but—_

_i wouldn’t mind_ , the Joker interrupts.

_—but Wayne just didn’t have the desire to see anybody else. His special friend was more than enough for him. Wayne then ordered the grilled salmon with wild rice and a salad with balsamic dressing. The salmon and rice were good but there wasn’t enough dressing on the salad and the executives Wayne was dining with kept trying to push martinis on him. After lunch Wayne attended another meeting about funding a new women and children’s crisis shelter in the inner city, and he had to push pretty hard to get his tightwad underlings to cough up the money.  
_

_Then Wayne’s work day was over and his butler picked him up. They got stuck in traffic for about half an hour, during which Wayne had to answer four phone calls that he really didn’t want to answer. When he finally got home Wayne found his special friend waiting for him on the balcony, looking more wound up than Charlie Sheen on an eight ball of cocaine and yet so tired he looked ready to fall over. So Wayne brought his friend inside and tried to calm him down by telling him a story. The end._

_That was the most boring story i have ever fucking heard_ , the Joker mumbles into the pillow. His eyes are drifting shut of their own accord but he keeps snapping them open.

 _That was the idea_ , Bruce tells him. _Close your eyes_.

_Bruce—_

_i’ll stay until you until you fall asleep. Now close your eyes._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted: "what about a Batman/Joker team up for reasons I can't really think of, either with people wondering if Batman has it all together these days, or with nobody knowing about said team up and the two of them simply nearly managing to get themselves killed, ensuing in angst and somehow disgusting sweetness as well."

_If you don’t let me kill, and any of Hangman’s men get away…they’ll talk_ , the Joker warns. Everybody will know we’re together on this.

_i don’t care. We’ll figure something out. This officer has four children, and i won’t have a repeat of Halloween on my hands. We’re stopping the Hangman this time._

_Okay,_ the Joker sighs. _Okay. Just give me twenty four hours to get out of this hellhole and i’ll meet you at your place in the morning._

* * *

Raw energy explodes from the Joker’s lean frame as he lashes out with his fists, his elbows, his feet, with anything he can reach and turn into a weapon.

A bottle smashes over one man’s head.

Another takes a brick to the knee and keels over.

Batman tries to keep his mind on the Task At Hand but watching the Joker fight is so mesmerizing,

and Batman has so so few opportunities to do so, then

someone’s clinging to his back pressing a knife to his throat for half a second before the weight is dragged away from him and Batman’s throatskin stings as he doesn’t hear didn’t hear hopes he didn’t hear the Joker growl don’t you fucking touch him as he sinks a blade deep into the attacker’s shoulder

 _Go easy_ , Batman hisses in the Joker’s ear. The Joker just laughs, and Batman can’t expect any less really. When he went to the Joker for help he was desperate still is desperate for any leads that will stop the Hangman’s next killing.

In the end they get the lead they needed, and the Joker gets torn to pieces, and Batman doesn’t fare much better. 

 

 _I’m sorry i got you involved in this_ , Wayne says.

 _Hey any excuse to bring down Hangman is good enough for me_ , the Joker replies. _i’d do anything to make sure that bitch gets what’s coming to her_.

 _Even this?_ Alfred holds up a piece of blood-soaked gauze.

 _Sure_ , the Joker says but Wayne doesn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes as Alfred gently brushes a clean piece of gauze against the wound.

It comes away covered in bits of gravel and debris. 

 

Seven hours later the Joker’s bandages are soaked through and need changing again, but Alfred is asleep and Wayne decides he feels well enough to do it himself.

He slowly unwraps the ace bandage and goes on to peel back the gauze around the Joker’s finger. Suddenly

the gauze sticks

and the skin pulls

and while the Joker doesn’t make a sound his face takes on a sudden yellow tinge.

 _Bruce_. His voice is like water. _i really don’t feel right._ He’s pouring sweat out of nowhere.

 _Come lie down_ , Wayne says, guiding him towards the sofa. _Come lie down and we’ll put your feet up._

 _i should probably be in the bathroom_ , the Joker says quietly, so Wayne tugs him in that direction gets him sitting on the tile with his head between his knees faster than Wayne can process what they’re actually doing. They go through the motions.

 _Are you still feeling sick?_ Wayne asks but the Joker’s shoulders shrug.

 _My guts are in knots,_ he mumbles into the floor. _i don’t…_ his voice trails off and he shivers. He looks miserable sitting there puddling sweat onto the floor, so Wayne stands goes to the sink and wets a cloth under cold water. Wraps the cloth around the Joker’s neck and rubs between his shoulder blades.

 _Deep breaths_ , Wayne murmurs. _It will pass._

 _i didn’t realize that cut was so deep_ , the Joker breathes.

_Neither did i. i’m sorry._

_Not your fault_ , the Joker mutters, and straightens up to lean against Wayne’s side. _It’s getting better. At least i don’t feel like i’m going to vomit or shit my pants anymore._

 _Good._ Wayne wraps an arm around him, feels him shaking _Good. In a little bit you can lie down and i’ll get you some juice or gatorade or something._

 _Nah, i’m good to keep going_ , the Joker says casually. _We gotta get me wrapped up so you can get your shit taken care of._

 _No._ Wayne rubs his hand down the other man’s leg. _We need to take care of you first. You just went into shock, Joker._

 _Yeah but i’m out of it now_ , the Joker protests but Wayne’s already standing up, taking the Joker’s hands

 _You’re out of it alright_ , he remarks. _You’re still pale and your hands are like ice. Come on, into bed_. He gets an arm under the Joker’s knees and gently pulls him to his feet before lifting him up.

 _You don’t have to carry me_ , the Joker sighs, tipping his head into Wayne’s chest.

 _Yes_ , Wayne says softly. _Yes i do_. 

 

Seven hours later Alfred checks in on them, finds them both strewn across Bruce’s bed,

fast asleep, holding hands. Alfred tugs the covers up over both of them, fills their water glasses, and leaves them be.

He’d never admit it aloud but they look right together,

tucked in like this.


End file.
